|Come inside. It's warm in here.|
|Geranium rescues from the storm.|
|This island girl wouldn't have lasted a second in that storm.|
|Freesia warming up, indoors.|
I also found a diary. Mine. From 2005. When I was so miserable, I could barely get out of bed in the mornings. Though getting out of bed was the one thing I absolutely, positively had to do. Climb outta there, make that bed, so you can't crawl back into it. Get up and meet the challenges of the day.
|For most of that year, I forced myself to write 5 positive things, every day.|
Look at the cover of that 2005 journal. It's a Kincaid thing. A cottage surrounded by more flowers than any sane woman could ever need. That was the winter I studied to become a master gardener. And, this joint has been going uphill ever since! Who knew that flowers could turn the tables on misery? Or, that I could be working toward a goal in my head I never knew I had.
PS: What to do? Keep it? Toss it? I discarded the journal, intact. Perhaps someone will find it, read it, and go as crazy as I did, trying to decipher it. :)
Apparently there's still a wee bit o' the devil inside of me.